


We're Alive

by orphan_account



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: And it's really tricky, F/M, Happy Sex, Porn, Pre-Stream (Critical Role), Sometimes I just want to write a happy Caleb, sex with strangers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 06:19:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16948626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The rush of elation on the night Nott breaks out of jail with a stranger.





	We're Alive

**Author's Note:**

> She's an adult, guys.

Her legs ache from the strain of running. Her heart feels like it’s about to bounce out of her chest. There's only been a handful of times before in her life that her lungs have burned this badly.

 _Got to keep moving keep moving the human is falling behind grab the human drag the human_ , her mind chants.

For all she’s struggling with their rapid pace, he’s suffering more. It isn't hard to tell that athleticism is not this man’s strong point. He’s too skinny; there’s not enough muscle on him to keep him going the way Nott does. In truth, she could run much faster if she let go of his hand and let him go in the opposite direction. It would probably be safer too for both of them. But she drags him anyway.

She finally feels safe to halt when they’ve reached the depths of the forest. The man releases her hand and sinks to the ground, rolling onto his back as he wheezes. His palms rest flat on the woodland floor below, and his digits thrum back and forth as he allows his breathing to settle. Nott slumps to her knees doing the same. She has run for her life like this before, but it doesn’t make the terror any less overwhelming.

“We’re alive,” she whispers to herself as she waits for her heartbeat to settle.

“Ja,” the human responds and he beams to himself. He’d seemed terrified in that cell as he curled up in the corner and muttered to himself—she’d barely been able to hear his planning. There’s an accent to his voice that she hasn’t caught much of before. Outside he seems so much brighter and more content. “We’re ALIVE!” he yells, his voice giddy. Now that he’s caught his breath, his spirits are better too. He’s also beautiful when he smiles, Nott notes, as a flutter of something builds in her stomach.

Nott grins. She likes this human. He seems nice. Everything about him is scruffy, but his eyes don't look at her with fear. He’s also rather handsome, but she knows she probably shouldn't think about that.

As she ascends to her feet, she grasps what must be expected now—he must be expecting her to leave soon. She fumbles in her bag and retrieves the items. “I tried to get what I could, but I think they stole most of your stuff. There wasn’t any coin around,” she says sincerely. In truth, she had every intention of taking his coin if she found any, but that wasn’t an option. “The only thing I found was a scarf and a couple of books.” She offers them out to the man.

The scarf is tattered; it's the kind of tattered that even in the midst of a bitter Felderwin winter, members of her clan would likely have had to debate whether it’d be worth stealing to stay warm—and she'd witnessed them take just about anything. There are three books in total. The first is a thick novel that she imagines would have gone over the heads of any of the guards in the stockade. The second and third are similar. The second is a volume that’s been written in, but its pages are charred and burnt; the third is much newer with the same scrawl and arcane symbols inside.

As he sits up, he looks warily at Nott before reaching out and tenderly taking them. He studies them deliberately, and Nott can see tears start to prickle in the human’s eyes.

“I’m really sorry—I couldn’t find anything else. The book was all burnt like that when I found it. I could try to go back, but whatever’s in there is probably in cinders now.” At this human’s hand too. Nott had heard of individuals with powerful magic that could create fire, but she’d never seen it before. It had frightened her, even if it did get the two of them out of there.

The human swallows as a thick tear falls from his eyelashes but the man is smiling. “No, this is wonderful. You found everything I needed. Everything that’s important anyway. You are too kind.”

“Oh... You’re welcome, I guess?” she says somewhat bemused. Whatever is in those books must be truly valuable, she realises. The messy human flicks through the newer book and laughs in delight. She feels a rare twinkle of attachment to this man.

As he looks through one of the books, he turns to a page and pulls out another piece of paper. This looks to be a different page stolen from elsewhere based on the difference in its colouration, and it bears more of their sigils that the newer book has. The human giddily shrieks of joy before leaning into Nott and placing a wet kiss to her lips.

It’s not intended as an initiation of anything flirtatious, but Nott feels her temperature rise all the same. He pulls back and continues thumbing through the books, chuckling and talking to himself in a bright voice.

She allows herself to take a thorough look at the human. He’s a bit of a state, even by Nott’s standards. His auburn hair is shoulder-length, but not presented in any form of a deliberate style—it's a short haircut that has long grown out shaggy. His clothes look much the same state as his scarf did. But all the same, he's beautiful in a way that a man so rumpled shouldn't be.

_He’s a stranger. You can run away if he wants you to leave._

She's falling into dangerous territory as she lets her mind wander. She’s done this before, and it didn’t end too well for either of them last time. Yet she knows her reassurance is true—she can outrun him easily if he's disgusted.

So Nott takes a deep breath—all she can manage as she’s a flask down—and kisses the human again.

He lets out a startled noise before kissing her back. Her head spins as his hand rises to the back of her neck. It's been a very long time since she's felt this, and the surprise of returned affection takes her breath for a moment as the scruffy human kisses her back and gasps like he’s enjoying this. She feels desired. It's odd.

When they eventually withdraw, the man chuckles again, bright and dizzy as he looks to Nott.

Self-consciousness rises up her throat like bile. It’s a bad idea to let him look at her again; letting him see her will make him change his mind, and Nott doesn't remember the last time she felt so full of light. Instead, she presses her lips to him again.

When the human pulls away again only a fraction, his eyes remain shut and Nott can tell he's smiling again.

“We’re alive,” she says, and the words trip out of her mouth as she feels she needs to justify herself. They’re free and alive, and there’s a person with her who isn’t retreating from the monster in front of him. His joy is contagious; it’s a tremor through how desperately lonely she’s been since she started fleeing so long ago.

“We are,” the human’s voice heavy with more resonant and bass than before, and Nott can feel crimson rising beneath the deep forest green of her skin.

In a moment of impulsive lust, she strains to bring her mouth to his neck and suck on the pulse point. Even with the human on his knees, it still takes a little craning of her neck to reach. As she does so, her hands instinctively grab for his belt and flick it open wickedly quick.

The human freezes.

Nott halts too and withdraws with a heft of guilt pushing onto her chest. Always too hasty and instinctive—too quick to think it through.

“It’s okay,” the man’s voice says with a turn of bewilderment. “Just surprised me. You can do that...if you’d like? Maybe not so fast. Too fast already today.”

She nods too eagerly and tries to ignore the minute tremor of her hands when she slips her hands beneath his belt, gentler this time. The man groans as Nott’s fingers brush over his underwear, and he draws her into another deep kiss.

After testing his reaction, her hands slide underneath his undergarments and a nervous titter escapes the human. Something about that quashes Nott’s nerves a little; he has jitters too, it seems.

He’s beginning to grow hard; Nott feels a little embarrassed at how worked up she is already as the movement of her breathing draws attention to how soaked her underwear is.

Her soft strokes lead the man to pant against her mouth, and he palms at her breasts and ass almost without thought. Nott smiles to herself at his reaction as she works him to her level of arousal.

In time, his wandering hands settle between her legs and Nott leans up into his touch. To her mortification, an inhuman sound that slips out—purring as he strokes at her clit through fabric. It’s a moment she feels the self-consciousness again, and a humiliated fear develops within her.

Then his hands press against her once again and Nott’s thoughts slide away until she’s only aware of the pressure against her cunt. She feels the corner of the human’s mouth turn up against hers, and he smiles at her response.

Every instance of touch that Nott has had before was with either someone who either didn't have the time to take her apart or didn't have a care enough for it to matter to them. It's almost mortifying how strange it feels to have her so ready without taking her clothes off. He strokes her thighs, as well as her cunt, and Nott can feel her skin burning along the path of his hands beneath her clothing.

Maybe slower is the way to do this.

She keeps her hand jerking him. With a leisurely movement, she shifts her hand up his shirt and lightly strokes the dip of his skinny hipbone. The man makes a soft noise as he stops the hand stroking his cock.

“Stop, I, er—” the human breathes heavily but doesn’t share the look of concern he had earlier.

He kisses her again and Nott lifts her hands from him to cradle his face to hers. She’s seen people do that when they’re kissing softly before.

The human pushes down Nott’s trousers enough to push his hands between her thighs, and the gentle pressure against her clit feels like melting.

He strokes her again, gentle and unfocused, but there—right where she needs him so badly.  There’s a warmth to his breathless pants against her lips. She leans back, pulling him with her, and she lies back as the human leans over her.

“Please,” she mumbles as she takes her hand from his face and guides the hand stroking her cunt, pushing firmer pressure against her clit.

The human’s hand takes his free hand to undress her further which just won't do. Nott removes the hand guiding his and threads her fingers through his, distracting and leading him away. She’s riding the high of having someone else touch her: human and handsome. The outlandishness of it all—of this whole day—makes her giddy in a way she can’t describe and she needs to savour.

The last thing she needs is to be brought back down to reality and this body.

She holds his hand for longer than she fears would be acceptable, pressing her palms into his as she revels in the feeling of the warmth of someone else’s skin. Without her hand guiding him, the fingers stroking her clit are almost too gentle, touch grazing when she needs him grinding to remind her this isn’t some daydream.

“More. Harder, please.”

Her voice doesn’t sound like her—too high and ringing and pleading. She works the solid weight of him in her hand and she jerks him quicker in her impatience.

"Easy.”

It seems like decades before she hears her pleas as the human touches her at his own pace, unhurried and teasing. She has to fight to slow her touch as she aches to drive him restlessly forward.

The push and pull of their pleading eventually abates and Nott feels the branding iron flash of lust settle into something else. At some point, she becomes liquid; her legs no longer scrambling for purchase to get closer as their touch fall into an intrinsic rhythm. No need to push for more—he’s got her. He doesn't lean away when he gets too close; her hand relaxes and they balance.

It's hard to tell where her orgasm begins and ends as the rolls of pleasure of the build up bleed into her climax until eventually she's wrought out to exhaustion.

Even after the age it feels like he drew out her orgasm, the human takes even longer to come as he keeps his eyes closed and face held tight. Nott watches as the human arches, caught between pushing away from her grip to last a little longer and further into her touch to bring him to his peak. Spurts of hot come coat Nott’s hand and beyond, speckling his tattered coat but it's already stained to the point it wouldn’t be noticeable.

The human breathes quietly, and Nott wipes her hands on the mossy floor beside them. Sluggishly, he rolls closer to Nott, part of his body resting on hers and seeking contact.

It must be somewhere in the early hours now, and Nott can feel it in the languor of her limbs. This feels like a moment that Nott should say something before she slips into unconsciousness, but she recognises that articulation is not her forte. She speaks and tends to talk herself into trouble.

And she likes this—head tucked under his chin, the feel of warm skin against hers. She just wants to lay here, free and warm and safe. The brightness of her orgasm hasn’t yet faded, and there’s the beautiful sensation of being touched that Nott wants to chase to its bitter end. Shouldn’t say anything to fuck this up.

Her anxiety sends her hands twitching, and she finds herself smoothing the fabric of his shirt repetitively. She can only be so brave today; she's had no alcohol to help her.

She hears the human chuckle and his breath rustles the top of her hair; she can feel the grin even though she can’t see his face.

“Don’t even know your name.”

She smiles too. It’s silly when she thinks about it. She helped a man break out of jail today. She helped him set a fire. She stole for him. She ran with him. She even fucked him.

“I’m Nott,” she says too quickly and immediately regrets it—should she have given him a fake name?

“Nott?”

“Nott,” she confirms. Should she have given him a prettier one? Something less goblin?

“Nice to meet you. My name is Caleb Widogast.”

She hums. “Caleb’s a lovely name,” she says reverently before she can stop herself.

“Danke, Nott.”

Caleb goes quiet, and it isn’t long before she hears his breathing even out and she’s sure he’s asleep. Nott lies still, taking in the day.

 _Caleb Widogast_ , she thinks to herself. _Let's see where this goes._


End file.
